


The Ground Beneath Our Feet

by infalliblefandoms



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infalliblefandoms/pseuds/infalliblefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Jehan find themselves thrown into the insanity that is the lives of les amis. And it's kind of the best thing that's ever happened to them.</p><p>Les Mis College AU<br/>Multi-chaptered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ground Beneath Our Feet

It's fitting, he thinks, that the rain is sheeting down.  
It nurtures his melancholy, and _goddamn_ he needs a smoke.

He hates these times of limbo, the in-between stages where you're stuck between one place and the next, pushing your feet against the pavement but getting nowhere.  
Wow. Jehan would be proud of him. That was almost poetic.

Grantaire flicks his cigarette and watches the ash fall to the wet ground and splutter out of life.  
The rain is refreshing. He's spent all day heavy lifting - shifting boxes up and down flights of stairs.  
The lease had run out and suddenly he and Jehan were in want of lodgings before the new semester started.  
He's sorry to see the place go. It's the first place he'd ever felt he could truthfully call home.

~

There are no words to describe Jehan, and isn't that quite ironic. Jehan, who could write an anthology on every person he's ever met.  
Their friendship is a bizarre union, one that by all laws of human nature should not work at all. Grantaire, the lazy, cynical drunk. Jehan, the kind-hearted poet.  
He never lets himself dwell on it, however. Best not question one of the only good things in his comically miserable existence.

Jehan is the one solid and constant force in Grantaire's life. Well, along with his absinthe.  
Their entire first year of university consisted of Jehan running around after his drunken ass - making sure he got home, holding back his dark curls as he wretched painfully over the toilet bowl, making sure he was always well fed before he went out.  
Grantaire had never been a fan of drinking on an empty stomach.

Despite all this he had never once lost his temper with Grantaire, and he has never given up the hope that something will come along to force Grantaire to clean himself up, treat himself better.  
His presence alone is enough to get Grantaire through each day. The misery is never potent enough to hold out against Jehan and his seemingly radiant kindness. He floats, more fittingly _orbits_ , around Grantaire in his skinny jeans and pastel sweaters, his braids and woven ribbons.  
Once, in a brandy-induced state of inebriation, Grantaire had convinced himself that Jehan was not, in fact, real - he was instead a fairy, an angelic guardian. No twenty year old male actually wore that many floral prints and ribbons, and _who the hell has hair that long?_  
Well, Jehan does.  
And luckily for Grantaire, Jean Prouvaire, as it turns out, is just as human as he.

~

Two weeks before the beginning of the new semester, and they were still homeless.

Grantaire is at the university bookshop, buying a battered second-hand _Introduction to Eroticism in Ancient History_. He chuckles as he flips through, pleased to find that by eroticism, they mean _almost completely homoeroticism._  
It's times like these Grantaire thanks his unambitious and most likely drunk past-self for choosing a Classical History major to accompany his fine art degree.

"Guess I'll be seeing you in class as we discuss the epic gay loves of the Ancient World" comes a voice, cheerful and threaded with laughter.

He peers up over his textbook to see a boy with disshevelled dark hair and wicked glinting eyes leaning casually against a bookshelf, in his hands a similar book to the one Grantaire is holding.  
This guy's smile is infectious. It's crooked and cheeky and there's too many teeth but it works - Grantaire, against his will, is suddenly standing with a stupidly large grin plastered on his face.

"Courfeyrac" the guy saunters (no really, he _saunters_ ) up to Grantaire and holds out his hand. Grantaire takes it, still grinning like an idiot.

"Grantaire"

"Pleasure. So let me guess, Arts Student?"

Grantaire blinks a few times, a little thrown.

The new guy laughs. 

"Come on man, your practically covered in paint, and besides, you just have that look…"

Grantaire relaxes, glancing down and remembering the studio shirt he'd put on this morning because nothing else had been washed for a week.

"Yeah. Arts Student" he says, realising the smile had never left his face. "You?"

"Double major, Politics and Linguistics. Not as bad as it sounds"

Grantaire raises his eyebrows.

"Ok, so its pretty shite. But the Classics minor keeps things interesting" he waggles his eyebrows.

The movement was suggestive enough for Grantaire to be sure that he was referring to the sexual content of the course.  
And knowing Classical History, well _that's an interesting turn of events._  
He is torn between embarrassment and captivation.

"Second year?" Courfeyrac asks.

"Yeah, you?"

And Grantaire is surprised to find himself hoping for a certain answer.

"Yes indeed" the guy replies with a smirk.

Grantaire inwardly rejoices.

"New best friends? I think yes."

Grantaire laughs loudly at that, and lets this manically cheerful and shockingly attractive second year Classics minor throw an arm around his shoulder and lead him out the door.

~

8:00pm rolls around and they're in a bar somewhere close to campus.  
In the end he'd spent the rest of the day with Courfeyrac, and shit Jehan should watch his back because this guy should win medals for being awesome.

 _Jehan._ Fuck.  
Grantaire groans and digs his phone out.

"What is it?"

"My friend, you know the one I mentioned? I'm staying at his parent's place. I told him I wasn't going out tonight. Fuck"

"Tell him to get his ass over here! The more the merrier! I'd like to meet this mysterious roommate. What was his name again?"

"Jean Prouvaire, but Jehan is fine"

Courfeyrac looks thoughtful for a second.

"Nice name"

Grantaire barks out a laugh.

"Uh, yeah. I guess so."

He types out a text on his phone and stuffs it back into his coat pocket.

"He's on his way"

Courfeyrac smiles at that. But he never really stops smiling so there wasn't much distinction.

~

It's almost 9:00pm by the time the door opens, letting a gust of cold air in. Jehan shuts it hurriedly behind him and spots Grantaire at the bar.

He makes his way over, unwinding a thick cable-knit scarf from around his neck. He is sporting maroon skinny jeans with brown lace up boots. His sweater is a washed out violet colour and has a soft yellow moon and stars patterned on the front. His scarf, which is now bunched in his hands, is dark green, and his hair is in a messy fishtail finished off with a pastel blue ribbon.

 _He's really toned it down tonight_ , Grantaire muses.

"Sorry for the lack of communication" Grantaire smiles sheepishly when Jehan reaches them.

"I distracted him" Courfeyrac started, turning from the bar to address the new arrival. The sentence died in his throat when he saw Jehan.

It wasn't an unusual reaction, most people are rendered speechless when meeting Jehan for the first time, or any time. But Grantaire doesn't often see the slight colour that is creeping up Courfeyrac's cheeks at the sight of his best friend.

And Jehan is blushing profusely. Grantaire's sure he's missed something.

Courfeyrac recovers quickly and his charming smile is back.

"Courfeyrac, nice to finally meet you. I've heard _so_ much about you."

Grantaire rolls his eyes, but Jehan just squeaks.

"Hi. I'm Jean Prouvaire. Jehan, though, just call me Jehan."

He avoids Courfeyrac's gaze, hiding his eyes beneath his long lashes.

Grantaire, confused as ever, pats the stool next to him and calls the bartender over.

Jehan takes his seat and the awkwardness finally dissipates.

**Author's Note:**

> la la la la this is never going to get finished - I was so young and naive when I began writing it... go read my other modern au.  
> I promise it's better.


End file.
